


A Glow To Carry Us Through

by ImberReader



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, How I took a metaphor too far, Mostly Jyn-centric, Prompt-response, Rebelcaptain - Freeform, but that also means Jyn's feelings for Cassian centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:19:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImberReader/pseuds/ImberReader
Summary: Fireflies always meant happiness and home to Jyn, so what is she to do now, when they begin glowing softly in her heart as she gravitates closer and closer to Cassian Andor?





	A Glow To Carry Us Through

**Author's Note:**

> Written as prompt response on tumblr. "I think I’ve got fireflies where my caution should be. (Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter.) "
> 
> Unbeta'd and barely edited. Also contains references to soul and gut wrenching novelization by Alexander Freed, aka the original rebelcaptain shipper.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it despite everything, though!

She does not remember much of Lah'mu (she tries not to), but she does recall how one could tell summer was coming - the indistinguishable time of day stretching for longer before night came to consume overcast skies, how they opened to rain generously upon the lush land even more often and how the gradually increasing heat turned downpours into humidity that clung to one’s entire self.

But most of it all, Jyn remembers fireflies. For her, they had been the true messengers of summer’s arrival, and the ghostly motes of light dancing over the swaying grass by the pond north of their farm had quickly become a favorite sight. Their glow looked so warm it should burn you like a candle would, but instead the little bug was cool to touch, a contradiction that fascinated her. And each year, when rainy season approached, she giddily waited when she could bask in their intricate, chaotic dances again. (Papa had said something about chemicals in water that made their actions more erratic, but she has forgotten.)

Since then, she has seen thousands of light sources, natural and hand-made, yet nothing ever compares to fireflies. Perhaps, she thinks, it is because of how short, but bright their lifespan is, akin to her happiness. (Much later, someone calls her whole life such.)

So, Jyn tries not to think about them, to lock them in the sealed cave that hides in her mind (the one she has furiously tried to lose path to, only to end up right at its now open, gaping mouth). And though they should have faded away in the damp darkness, just as rust has not covered any of the memory wrecks hidden in the cave, they, too, have survived the exile.

She doesn’t know it at first - there are so many other things to witness emerging from the depths of this cave, that Jyn misses when the bugs flock out and settle in a new home, somewhere in the region of her heart. But somewhere between Jedha and Eadu, they make themselves known, a faint and unsure flicker in gloom that threatens to consume her. A proverbial flicker of hope to _see_ her father, more than a see-through image of now foolishly lost recording.

And perhaps, just perhaps, a response to someone else’s dim, uncertain glow. She denies it, or perhaps simply lacks time to acknowledge it, yet still finds the momentum to gravitate toward him. Unwillingly, but naturally.

After the rains and death have soaked her to the bone on Eadu, she swears that she will see fireflies fall to the cold ground as Galen Erso, their hopeful glow of ‘maybe’ be damned. There is no more Papa to call her Stardust, except the one of her memories, and there is no trust to be placed in Cassian Andor, the traitor and murderer. (All too much like her, the difference between two shades of gray being a cause.)

But Yavin IV is too much of right environment for the fireflies and they continue to strive, grow bigger in numbers. And where she should turn to caution, the one thing that has ensured her survival through the years (spent living, but not being _alive_ ), she finds it consumed by their insistent glow. Yet this light is far too soft to extinguish council’s fears and doubts, and she finds herself stranded once more.

Except this time, there is someone to offer her a hand (offer the Galaxy hope, a chance to survive, which they have one shot at to deliver), one she _should_ be hesitant to accept, but instead she does so in two heartbeats. And when he welcomes her home, Jyn thinks she must be physically glowing. The coolness of the light has turned into warmth that drips into her limbs, heavy but not hindering, filling her up, and if she saw any fireflies actually floating in air between the two of them, like a strange, disconnected thread that binds her and Cassian together, she would not even be surprised anymore.

And she knows, this will be the shine to guide her way even when her legs give out, this will be the light (reflected in brown eyes that linger on her for too long, yet not long enough) to carry her through this. For better or for worse.


End file.
